I’d be fine if my hands stopped shaking,
then the words would be as difficult to produce.
Simply such, calling a duck a dog doesn’t make it less of a duck,
just someone’s twisted attempt at subterfuge,
which means lying, since I don’t want to be accused
of thinking myself smarter, when if fact it is true.
I am,
I mean,
smarter, than you,
and I’m tired of feeling dirty for refusing to accept,
what is so widely accepted by a majority that thinks being smart is something wrong.

“Oh you have your big words, but it doesn’t mean you know.”
I know,
I know how to topple empires with whispered words,
and how to rile up masses into blind frenzies.
I know how to make the sinner into a saint,
and prove sainthood only belongs to the sinner.
And I know, when well placed, how powerful a curse can be,
when face to face with someone caught in a corner.

I don’t mind the claw marks on my face because I’ve got you,
indignant, ignorant, raising your nose at me as I curse you
for daring to blame me for your truths that lay tattered at our feet.
No one is here to save you,
and yes the bitter truth is,
I don’t care if you are born of my blood,
I don’t care.

The fury that rages in me is screaming and I’d be fine if my hands stopped shaking,
but it is for your own benefit.
I’m raising my hands to letters and not numbers,
to tell you the last moment occurred.
The last moment when blood meant something to my existence,
and it’s death,
on your hands,
will be a spot the Lady knows all too well.
So screw you both to the unstuck place I left behind,

These childhood games that because adulthood games,
mean so little to me now that I wonder if it was real.
Did this occur?
Because a duck is a duck even when it’s called a dog,
and taking without permission is stealing,
and well the old adage does fit, doesn’t it?
Because you can’t misunderstand a lie
when it is caught in the daylight,
and I caught both of you in it, and tattooed it to memory.

So excuse my breakdown of propriety
as I calm my shaking nerves and twisting stomach,
and place my fingers on letters, not numbers,
although you do not deserve such leniency.
But I guess you are too busy hiding beneath
that skirt you permanently wear as a hat these days.
I’ll simply use language that your quite capable of comprehending.

Get the fuck out of my world.
Blood means nothing in it.